Maybe Girls Can Be Knights
by little0bird
Summary: Jaime waited until he could no longer hear their footfalls in the gravel, then turned to the girl. He guessed she might be about nine or ten, but she was uncommonly tall for her age, if that were so. He almost felt sorry for her. She had to be the homeliest child he'd ever laid eyes on. She's young, he mused. She might grow into her mouth. Her thick hair was blonde, but not a


A/N: This popped into my head the other day. What if the first time Jaime met Brienne was when she was a child? Jaime is 18 and Brienne is 8. Clearly this is AU...

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Jaime couldn't quite make out the words, but the taunting tones were unmistakable. He'd heard them his entire life when people mocked Tyrion. He followed the sound of flesh smacking onto flesh, a group of lower-pitched voices attacking a higher-pitched one. He strode through the twisting paths of the godswood of the Red Keep and came upon a knot of squires surrounding a girl, who stood on the stump of a weirwood tree.

'Take it back!' she demanded, batting away the attempted slaps from the squires.

'You're so stupid,' one of the squires laughed.

'Girls are supposed to get married, stay at home, and have babies,' another said with the supreme confidence of a boy who thought he knew everything.

'Girls can't fight anyway,' the third added, voice dripping with contempt.

The girl launched herself at one of the squires, fists windmilling. She connected solidly with one dressed in the colors of the Tarlys, blood spurting from his nose. She shrieked a battle cry, another fist punching a squire wearing the sigil of the Freys dead in his crotch. The squire doubled over, mouth working like a fish, then toppled to the gravel path. Figuring his interference wouldn't sully the girl's honor at this point, Jaime waded into the fight. He booted the last squire in the arse. 'Get out of here,' he growled. 'Take your friends!'

The squires scurried away, dragging the Frey boy between them.

Jaime waited until he could no longer hear their footfalls in the gravel, then turned to the girl. He guessed she might be about nine or ten, but she was uncommonly tall for her age, if that were so. He almost felt sorry for her. She had to be the homeliest child he'd ever laid eyes on. _She's young _, he mused. _She might grow into her mouth _. Her thick hair was blonde, but not a pleasing shade of gold. It was the rather straw-like in color and coming undone from the elaborate plait, a rose-colored ribbon dangling from the end of the braid.

The girl glared at him. 'What are _you _looking at?' she said sulkily.

'What were you doing out here?' Jaime retorted.

'Don't like parties,' she shot back.

'Really? They have lemon cakes.'

The girl hesitated, but shook her head. 'Don't care.'

Jaime's head tilted to the side. A smear of mud caked the side of her face. The girl's dress was sapphire blue velvet, dusty now from the fight, the hem torn and sagging. Her knuckles were skinned, but not bleeding. He took a step closer to examine the sigil embroidered on the front of the girl's dress. _Quartered shield, azure and rose… Crescent moons. Sunbursts… _ 'You're the Tarth girl, aren't you?' _Must be here for Robert's coronation. The Tarths are Baratheon bannermen after all. _

The girl's lip curled, revealing what would have been a gap-toothed smile. Had she smiled, of course. 'Maybe.'

Jaime beckoned with one hand. 'Come on. Why don't I help you get cleaned up, and I'll escort you back to your chambers? Then I can find your father and let him know where you've gone. Lord Selwyn, isn't it?'

'Yes.'

'Good.' Jaime turned and began to make his way to the entrance of the godswood, not waiting to see if the girl followed him or not. Her yellow head bobbed in his peripheral vision, and Jaime cast furtive glances in her direction. She had large eyes, the blue of summer skies. He thought they might prove to be her saving grace when she grew older. 'What's your name?'

'Brienne.' She yanked at the ribbon until it slithered from her hair. 'Yours?'

'Jaime.' He opened the door to the White Sword Tower. 'After you, my lady.'

'I'm not a lady,' Brienne scowled, clomping into the Round Room. Her eyes grew round as she took in the room. 'This is for the Kingsguard!' she breathed.

'Yes.'

'But you…'

Jaime chuckled to himself and closed the door. 'I am one of the Kingsguard.'

'Where's your golden armor?' Brienne challenged.

'In my sleeping cell. Don't usually wear it if I'm not on duty.' He grinned as Brienne heaved a sigh of disappointment mixed with an equal measure of disapproval. 'Wait here.' He returned with a large jug of warm water and a basin, as well as clean cloths and soap. He patted one of the chairs around the large table. 'Sit.'

'I'm not a dog,' Brienne huffed.

'I beg your pardon.' Jaime bowed elaborately. 'Brienne, would you care to take a seat?' She rolled her eyes and plopped into the chair. Jaime poured water into the basin and soaked a cloth, then began to dab at her knuckles. 'So, if you're not a lady, and if you could be anything you wanted, what would you choose?'

'I want to be a knight,' Brienne said promptly.

'But girls can't be knights,' Jaime told her.

'Why not?'

'Tradition,' Jaime said lamely.

'To the seven hells with tradition,' Brienne snorted.

'Can you even use a sword?'

'Of course I can,' Brienne scoffed. Her shoulders wilted a little. 'A little,' she confessed. 'I fight the squires at home. Haven't won yet. But I will!' Her face tilted up with a pugnacious air that left Jaime no doubt she would one day.

'And so you shall. If you keep practicing. Hold still.' Jaime soaked another cloth and began to swab at her face until most of the mud was gone. 'How old are you?'

'Eight.'

'Plenty of time, then.'

'Why are you being nice to me?' Brienne asked abruptly. 'People aren't nice to me. Most people laugh at me.' Her chin trembled, but she swallowed the emotions.

As clean as water could make her, Jaime pushed the basin aside. 'You remind me of my younger brother.' His mouth twisted. 'People are mean to him, too.'

'Why? Is he too tall and too ugly?'

Jaime blinked. _Oh, child… _ He felt his heart twist a little at the poor girl. How many people in her short life browbeat her about her looks? 'No,' he said carefully. 'Tyrion's a dwarf.'

'What does that mean?'

'He's very short, but he's very smart and very clever,' Jaime added, feeling as if he had to defend Tyrion to this scrap of a child.

'What's that?' Brienne pointed to the White Book, sitting in front of the Lord Commander's chair.

'That is the Book of the Brothers.' Jaime got up and dragged the book to Brienne. 'Every member of the Kingsguard, all the way from the beginning has their name and deed recorded here.' He opened the book to a random page and began to idly turn the pages.

'Wait!' Brienne's hand shot out, but stopped short of the book itself. She peered at the page and wondrous smile spread over her face.

Jaime glowered at the page. 'Ssser Duncan… the… Tall…' he read slowly, nearly squinting with one eye to keep the letters from floating on the page.

Brienne waved at Ser Duncan's arms on the upper left corner. 'We have his shield in the armory at Evenfall,' she murmured.

'Really? How?'

'Dunno,' Brienne shrugged. She yawned widely, belatedly remembering her manners, made a half-hearted attempt to cover her mouth.

'I think it's time I took you back to your chambers,' Jaime declared. 'Do you know where they are?'

'Maegor's Holdfast. Second floor. By some statue of Baelor the Blessed.' Brienne sounded unimpressed by the statue.

Jaime led her back to her chambers, regaling her with some of the sillier tales of his exploits as a squire. He banged a fist on the door Brienne indicated. It was opened by a maid, whose eyes widened at the sight of him escorting Brienne. 'And here is where I leave you,' Jaime said. 'Good night, Brienne.' He walked away, but not before he caught the maid's scandalized scolding. 'Lady Brienne! How could you? That was Jaime Lannister! The Man Without Honor,' the maid hissed.

Jaime's heart sank a little. Not even rescuing little girls could save him.


End file.
